Dante Read online Daryl Banner (Boys & Toys Season 2 #3)

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Boys & Toys Season 2 Series by Daryl Banner
Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Dante (Boys & Toys Season 2 #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Daryl Banner

Book Information:

Photographer Dante has one rule: never mix business with pleasure. But when a young, hot new client tests his boundaries and pushes him to the limit, Dante finds his solitary little world split wide open and questions everything.
How long will Dante be able to resist his new client before caving to his secret desires?
Books in Series:

Boys & Toys Season 2 Series by Daryl Banner

Books by Author:

Daryl Banner


In the early evening twilight, Mayville is gearing up for another rough and bustling night of partying. Down in the sprawling basement apartment of Piazza Place, the landlord Dante is hard at work snapping photos of a new client. When he works, he carries the hyper focus of an artist. Nothing can come between Dante and the perfect picture.


“Yeah, a little to the left,” I direct him. “Elbow up. Turn your face to me an inch. Another inch.” I snap a picture—Flash! “Give me that flex. C’mon, give it to me, boy. Abs, too. Tighten them up. Good.” Flash. “Relax your neck a bit. Turn another inch to your left for me. Your other left. Perfect.” Flash, flash.

I’ve had a long day.


My morning felt like it would never end. I was woken up by an alarm I didn’t mean to set.

Flash, flash. “Great shot. Keep that pose.” Flash.

Then I was called to apartment 202 due to a funny noise Jeremy’s pipes were allegedly making in his bathroom, which I was sure had been dealt with months ago. Sounded like another bang-up job by another dud of a plumber I won’t be using again.

Flash. “Now relax your face and grip the ropes tighter. Even tighter. Yeah, make those forearms of yours bulge. I wanna see veins. Good, good.” Flash.

And then on my way back to my place, I was ogled at by Lex on the first floor, who I know has a sort of endearing obsession with me. He just leaned against his doorframe, his arms crossed, pretending like he was about to check his mail. He greeted me with an innocent smile, but I know damned well when I turned away to head into my basement, his eyes dropped straight to my ass.

I’m no fool. I know many of the guys who live in my building just see me as a hot piece of ass—a big, brooding bodybuilder with a pretty face whose daddy gave him the building to play with. And I know some of them wish my pops Alfredo was still running this place instead of traveling the world snapping selfies at landmarks with my mamma.

Truth is, no one knows me. Not truly.

My parents had a rough life. I want them to run around and have their fun—though my pops keeps calling every other day to check on his nice and precious Piazza Place as well as his seven other buildings, managed by seven other well-meaning assholes I’ve never met. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be running this place. I sure as hell never saw myself doing this at thirty.


But here we are. And here I am.

Flash, flash.

And at least I have a roof over my head—a very thick five floors’ worth of roof—and my beautiful camera to keep me company. “Good. Think I got all the shots you asked for. And that wraps up our shoot.”

My client tonight—the usual horny muscle boy who wants a big hot portfolio to turn his husband or boyfriend on with—sighs with relief. “Finally. I mean …” He amends himself. “Thank you.”

I smirk. “You can thank me when you see the final edits of these sick puppies.”

“Great. Um … Can you, uh …?” He squirms.

Ah, right. He’s having trouble getting himself out of the leather sling hanging from my ceiling. I give him a hand, which almost ends in him flipping right out of the thing like a pancake and eating my hardwood floor.

“Thanks,” he grunts, red-faced, as he starts to peel off the leather getup he wore for the shoot. In a few minutes, he’s back in most of the clothes he came in wearing straight from the office: a dress shirt, slacks, and polished dress shoes. He reaches for his skinny tie and starts putting it on. “I have to say, I’m really impressed with your, uh …”

I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish his sentence as he starts fumbling with the knot of his tie. “Thanks,” I say anyway as I roll up some rope and return it to the wall.

“I mean, ugh, look, I’m not a total stranger to the BDSM scene. I’ve had several encounters and, well, I happen to be a bit of a fetish guy myself …”